


He/Him

by SoulOfStars



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Poetry, fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 06:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17720273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulOfStars/pseuds/SoulOfStars
Summary: read the title. now read the tags. yup.





	He/Him

**Author's Note:**

> whoever is reading this right now, thanks.   
> <3

He's scared, this time.   
His words fill up pages, but he doesn't seem to be saying anything.   
His heart is red, his mind is busy, and the blue polish on his nails is chipping. 

He can't seem to speak his mind.   
His words are tired, eyes tripping over line after line of thought,   
Brain splattered over page after page of pencil lead,   
Watching sunsets with a drink in hand,   
The ice is already gone. 

He follows a single thread of thought like it's a line in a song.   
His cup is empty,   
Balance unbalanced,   
In his mind, there's plenty,   
But the words just won't come out.   
He's slipping. 

Candles dance in his room,   
Casting shadows over walls.   
Fans are constantly on,   
And he's trying to drown them out. 

He wishes he could paint his room blue.   
His bedsheets remind him of a time when he wasn't scared,   
When he didn't let his fear control him,   
When his gaze was focused onwards and upwards, and nothing could stop him from getting there. 

There are stars on his ceiling.   
They glow in the dark.   
Sometimes he sits up at night, just staring at them, wondering if he'll ever make it that far. 

He hopes so. 

Sometimes he forgets to look forwards.   
Sometimes he forgets to be kind, and he forgets to speak his mind, and he can't remember how to say "no". 

He doesn't do his schoolwork when he should, and he hates himself for it,   
Carrying his self-loathing with him wherever he goes. 

But he doesn't deserve that. 

He deserves more than these pages,   
More than these lines.   
He deserves to be happy.   
He deserves to smile genuinely, and to remember to care for himself, and to feel full instead of empty. 

He is me. 

Maybe I won't make it, but I hope I do.   
I hope that, one day, the stars on my ceiling won't just be hopes.   
I hope that,   
One day,   
I will wake up to blue walls and I'll be happy.


End file.
